vegetable.
Emergency Room 6:55 p.m.
S ETH WAS COMING BACK from the Blood Lab, two buildings away. Newly built hospitals would have delivery systems with pneumatic tubes, like drive-up windows of banks, but this hospital was too old and had too many buildings for a straight shoot. Seth loved going to the Blood Lab, not because he got to do anything or talk to anybody, but because the route involved an underground tunnel not accessible to the public.
It was one of the few things he would do tonight where he felt part of the system. Somebody who knew what was going on; a grownup. He loved that tunnel.
Fat yellow tiles covered the walls and floor of this sub-basement tunnel, but the ceiling, which contained everything that let the hospital exist, was not enclosed. Spookily low over Seth’s head stretched armloads of exposed wiring, huge square air-conditioning ducts, and black plastic water mains. This allowed the maintenance crew to reach everything easily, but if you really wanted to disable the hospital, it wouldn’t take long from here.
Seth dodged several large carts of dirty laundry being hauled behind a small electric truck. He found the right stairs (elevators were too slow) and walked swiftly back to the ER. (Real doctors did not take their time; they rushed; Seth loved rushing.)
The doors to the Trauma Room were closed and the halls were mobbed by police and ambulance personnel. Something big went down, thought Seth, and I missed it!
Perhaps there had been a drug war or a race riot or a multiple car crash! Seth wedged between the phalanx of cops and reached out for the silvery handle of the Trauma Room door. A cop blocked his way. “Run along, kid.”
Run along, kid? The cop was dull looking. Beefy, beer-bellied, in need of a shave. How could this person push Seth around? Seth glared at him, ready to argue, but the cop never even glanced at Seth, never had looked at him to start with; Seth was nothing but a pink jacket taking up valuable space.
The cops passed him like a plate in a restaurant down the hall and out of the way. Oh, well, he thought, diverting himself by looking for the really pretty medical student. He searched the main halls and then poked around through the minor halls that led to X-ray and storage and conference rooms. On his second pass Meggie said, “They’re in the Family Room.”
“Who?” said Seth.
“The medical students. You think I didn’t see you pretending to be one? You want to catch up, they’re in the Family Room.”
There was a glint in Meggie’s eye that Seth could not decipher. He debated his strategy. Should he acknowledge that he had his eye on the pretty doctor? Or did this have nothing to do with flirting? And was there something terrific going on in the Family Room that he should get in on? What was Meggie’s motive here? Was she making a gift to him or setting him up?
“You’re gonna make a good doctor,” Meggie said. “I can see the calculating going on behind your eyes.”
I hate women, thought Seth. They spend all their time trying to look inside men. Analyzing us. Trespassing on our thoughts.
Meggie laughed. “Not a bad night for a future doctor. You got three women making eyes at you.”
Three? That would have to include Diana. Seth, although busy hating women, found that he was still very interested in them. Playing for time and hoping for clues, he said, “So what’s happening in the Family Room?”
“Patient is brain-dead but not body dead. Doctors are telling the family. They got to decide whether to donate the organs and pull the plug or what. Medical students are down there listening to see what kinds of things you say and what kinds of reactions you get.”
Seth almost gagged. The family of some half-dead person had to have this terrible announcement made in the company of medical students taking notes on their clipboards?
“This is a teaching hospital,” said Meggie. She sounded as if she were quoting a news release. “So
Emergency Room 6:55 p.m.
S ETH WAS COMING BACK from the Blood Lab, two buildings away. Newly built hospitals would have delivery systems with pneumatic tubes, like drive-up windows of banks, but this hospital was too old and had too many buildings for a straight shoot. Seth loved going to the Blood Lab, not because he got to do anything or talk to anybody, but because the route involved an underground tunnel not accessible to the public.
It was one of the few things he would do tonight where he felt part of the system. Somebody who knew what was going on; a grownup. He loved that tunnel.
Fat yellow tiles covered the walls and floor of this sub-basement tunnel, but the ceiling, which contained everything that let the hospital exist, was not enclosed. Spookily low over Seth’s head stretched armloads of exposed wiring, huge square air-conditioning ducts, and black plastic water mains. This allowed the maintenance crew to reach everything easily, but if you really wanted to disable the hospital, it wouldn’t take long from here.
Seth dodged several large carts of dirty laundry being hauled behind a small electric truck. He found the right stairs (elevators were too slow) and walked swiftly back to the ER. (Real doctors did not take their time; they rushed; Seth loved rushing.)
The doors to the Trauma Room were closed and the halls were mobbed by police and ambulance personnel. Something big went down, thought Seth, and I missed it!
Perhaps there had been a drug war or a race riot or a multiple car crash! Seth wedged between the phalanx of cops and reached out for the silvery handle of the Trauma Room door. A cop blocked his way. “Run along, kid.”
Run along, kid? The cop was dull looking. Beefy, beer-bellied, in need of a shave. How could this person push Seth around? Seth glared at him, ready to argue, but the cop never even glanced at Seth, never had looked at him to start with; Seth was nothing but a pink jacket taking up valuable space.
The cops passed him like a plate in a restaurant down the hall and out of the way. Oh, well, he thought, diverting himself by looking for the really pretty medical student. He searched the main halls and then poked around through the minor halls that led to X-ray and storage and conference rooms. On his second pass Meggie said, “They’re in the Family Room.”
“Who?” said Seth.
“The medical students. You think I didn’t see you pretending to be one? You want to catch up, they’re in the Family Room.”
There was a glint in Meggie’s eye that Seth could not decipher. He debated his strategy. Should he acknowledge that he had his eye on the pretty doctor? Or did this have nothing to do with flirting? And was there something terrific going on in the Family Room that he should get in on? What was Meggie’s motive here? Was she making a gift to him or setting him up?
“You’re gonna make a good doctor,” Meggie said. “I can see the calculating going on behind your eyes.”
I hate women, thought Seth. They spend all their time trying to look inside men. Analyzing us. Trespassing on our thoughts.
Meggie laughed. “Not a bad night for a future doctor. You got three women making eyes at you.”
Three? That would have to include Diana. Seth, although busy hating women, found that he was still very interested in them. Playing for time and hoping for clues, he said, “So what’s happening in the Family Room?”
“Patient is brain-dead but not body dead. Doctors are telling the family. They got to decide whether to donate the organs and pull the plug or what. Medical students are down there listening to see what kinds of things you say and what kinds of reactions you get.”
Seth almost gagged. The family of some half-dead person had to have this terrible announcement made in the company of medical students taking notes on their clipboards?
“This is a teaching hospital,” said Meggie. She sounded as if she were quoting a news release. “So
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